Chapter Thirteen

The parking lot was packed. No state cruisers though. And nothing that resembled Mitch's pint-sized truck. Just because that inner voice continued to urge me to drive on home and tend to my injury, doesn't mean I paid it any attention. Because I circled around the parking lot until a car backed out and I cautiously maneuvered my big Lincoln into the empty slot.

A few hops and I used the hood of a car to catch myself when I lost my balance. And that's how it went about three times before I was scooped up from behind by a pair of familiar arms. Or perhaps it was the scent of aftershave that was becoming so familiar? Whichever, I knew it was Mitch before I looked up into his weatherbeaten face and began my protest.

"Put me down. Just what do you-"

The remainder of my sentence was cut off, or more like drowned out, by the sound of laughter and clapping when we entered the restaurant.

My mouth spread in a wide smile, while my teeth were grinding together as he lugged me to the rear booth and plopped me down. Unlucky for him that he put me on the side so when he sat down, it was he who faced the crowd.

Nobody could see the hateful way I was glaring at the man they just finished applauding. And if I whispered, they wouldn't be able to hear my nasty comment to him of why the end booth had become his favorite. Which was so he could get drunk off the alcohol fumes drifting through the doorway of the adjoining bar.

"You two didn't go and do somethin' as crazy as get married, did yah?" Willie asked from where she appeared next to me. Right then and there, my anger appeared to jump from me and land in Mitch.

"Watch your mouth there, Willie. Married? Not this guy. I learn from my mistakes. And that big one was done an over with a long time ago."

"Are you quite finished?" I asked.

"I certainly hope so," Willie said.

Then it seemed only fair I got to go again. "The truth is, Willie, Mitch here thinks I need rescued about a zillion times a day. I can function quite well without the interference of an overblown male ego, though."

I think it was when Mitch started hissing that Willie said, "I'll just get youn's some coffee," and she scurried off.

"A bag of ice too, please," I called after her before meeting Mitch's sharp gaze.

"You deserved every word."

"Of all the women I know, you are the-"

"I really wouldn't if I were you."

He didn't. Whatever the insult on the tip of his tongue was, he swallowed it.

Then came the few moments of silence until Willie appeared with two steaming mugs of coffee in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. She handed the ice to me after my promise not to put it down Mitch's shirt or pants. But I have to say, the thought of doing it was tempting.

While I shifted around and positioned my foot on the seat and laid the bag of ice on it, Mitch ordered his usual midday salad. When it was my turn to tell her what I wanted, I did.

"Give me the same thing I ordered yesterday, but didn't get to eat."

Once Willie took off, I expected the familiar lecture. Mitch surprised me, though. But I'm not sure if he intentionally didn't start in about my steady diet of fat and calories, or if it was because he had something else he wanted to tell me.

I soon had my answer.

"In case you didn't know and wanted to attend, Thomas's funeral is tomorrow."

"No, I didn't know. And no, I wasn't planning to attend. The man tried to steal my business from me, for Pete's sake. I think I grew to despise him almost as much as Joe did."

"Guess it's safe for you to talk that way now, since it's official. The coroner ruled his death an accidental drowning. No worry of you becoming a suspect in that murder."

"I wasn't worried."

At least not about that, I silently said to myself and went ahead and sipped my coffee. Mitch sipped his as well before sitting his mug down and staring at me.

"What, is my face dirty?"

"I did a little checkin' on blondie."

"Yeah, what did you find out?"

"She was gettin' her mail at an apartment on North Front Street for the past few months. As of yesterday, her forwarding address is-"

"Joe's place."

"You already knew?"

"Not really. But I sort of guessed as much after finding her in her nightgown there last night."

"Was Joe home?"

"No. I haven't seen Joe since Tuesday. It's like he fell off the face of the earth."

Willie arrived with our food. I had half my cheeseburger and fries wolfed down before I noticed Mitch had barely touched his salad.

"Not very tasty, huh?"

"Just not hungry, I guess."

I had a strong feeling that wasn't it and said as much.

"Something on your mind?"

"How'd you hurt your ankle?"

I was just about ready to bite into a french fry, but didn't. I swallowed long and hard while I tried to figure out just how I should answer that one.

"Just walking along and turned it the wrong way."

"Uh, then it didn't happen when you jumped from one a Joe's windows this morning?"

"You're spying on me now, too?"

"Just happened to run into Anderson at the post office. Said by the time he got over there to see if you were okay, you had hobbled off. You want a tell me what in blue blazes you were doin' comin' out of that window, Fay?"

It took me an exceptionally long time to answer him.

"No. And to be quite honest, I just as soon we didn't discuss it again."

For some strange reason, Mitch didn't argue. And he didn't bring it up again during the next half hour or so we sat in the restaurant, finishing our food and sipping coffee.

We talked, too. Mitch filled me in on everything he found out about Ethel's murder. He had been right about the cause of death. Ethel suffocated. She suffered a long, terrifying end. She had been dead for a day or two when she was found. If the state boys had a lead as Francie had suggested, it was news to him. There was nothing left at the scene to try to trace back to the killer either. At least in way of material articles. Ethel was gagged with her own underwear. Her panty hose were used to tie her up. Fingerprints were almost pointless when one takes into consideration the number of partiers that area is known for. But there was one thing that might be the lead Francie heard about. One strand of hair was wrapped around Ethel's fingers. It was red and appeared to have come from a cheap wig."